


The Pressure In My Blood

by sxldato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean is Missing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Castiel/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline Feels, Only if you squint - Freeform, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 08:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14712999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: Lucifer is dead, Dean is gone, and Jack is a de-powered mess.





	The Pressure In My Blood

**Author's Note:**

> written for the "blood" bingo square  
> title is from "Son" by Sleeping At Last because, i mean, how could i not  
> follow me @sahwen on tumblr!

Jack has never felt this weak before, has never felt such a constant sharp hum of pain. He can’t keep himself standing any longer and sinks to his knees. The metallic smell of his own blood makes him dizzy. 

Sam kneels down and holds him. They just sit there, sprawled out on the church floor with the devil lying dead behind them. 

Jack wonders if Sam still thinks he’s worth all this.

“You’re okay,” Sam reassures; he looks ashen, grief-stricken. “We’re gonna be okay.” 

Cas and Mary track them down and Jack uses his last bit of grace to drown out the conversation of  _ where’s Dean _ , because he can’t stand to hear it. He leans into Sam’s side, comforted by the silence he’s made for himself.

Mary drives them home in Dean’s car. He keeps catching glimpses of her eyes in the rearview mirror, red and watering. Everyone is quiet and Jack can’t help but feel as though this is all his fault. The mixed emotions are palpable and overwhelming; the relief of Lucifer’s death combined with losing Dean is too much to take. 

“Sam.” His voice is hoarse and wobbly. 

“You alright?” 

He shakes his head. Tears threaten mutiny and he wipes them away with shaking fingertips. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sam scoots across the backseat and lets Jack rest against him. “It’s okay.” 

“If you need a moment, we can stop,” Cas offers. He’s turned around in shotgun, looking at Jack with a concern so deep that Jack wants to cry even more. 

He shakes his head again and his gaze lands on the little army men crammed into the ashtray. 

“I just want to go home.” 

-

Jack tells Cas not to heal him, goes so far as to cover the wound on his chest with his hands to prevent Cas from doing it without his permission. He wants the hurt. If he can’t fix the mess he’s made, he can at least feel as though he’s being punished.  

Sam insists they clean up the blood, and Jack complies. Sam has him hop up on the kitchen island made of cold medical steel, putting them face-to-face, but Jack feels very small. 

He hopes his grace will come back soon. He doesn’t have nearly enough right now to do anything-- not to heal himself (not that he wants to), not to find Dean. What gave him worth has disappeared. The longer he’s depowered, the longer he has to wait before he can atone for all his mistakes. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“You don’t need to be,” Sam replies. He’s wiping the dried blood away with a warm washcloth; his free hand rests on the side of Jack’s neck to keep his face still, the pad of his thumb soft and calloused on Jack’s cheek. 

Jack thinks of when it had been  _ Sam  _ caked in blood, stumbling back into camp with Lucifer on his tail. He’d looked so ashamed. 

Lucifer had done something to Sam, something so terrible that no one would tell Jack what it was; he’d heard it, resting dormant underneath their words when they said Lucifer had done  _ bad things _ . 

And Jack had disregarded it. Figured he’d give Lucifer a chance because they were blood, even though his real family had been right here the entire time. 

Sam and Cas and Mary, they all love him and care about him, and what has he done for them in return? He’s cost them a brother, a friend, a son. He’s let them down. He’s let  _ Dean  _ down. 

Guilt twists a sour knot in Jack’s stomach, mingling with the pain radiating from the wound in his chest. Cold sweat breaks out over his skin. 

“You don’t look well,” Cas says. He presses the back of his hand to Jack’s forehead. “Are you feeling alright?” 

Jack can’t bring himself to lie. “Something’s wrong,” he manages. “I don’t…” 

“Take some deep breaths.” Sam rubs Jack’s back and he closes his eyes at the comforting touch. “You’re just worked up.” 

Jack leans forward and rests his head on Cas’s shoulder. Breathes, in and out. 

Dean is gone and it’s his fault. If he hadn’t been so stupid, if he hadn’t trusted Lucifer in the first place, if he hadn’t been so desperate to believe he didn’t come from somewhere so evil--  

Tears run down his face and seep into the fabric of Cas’s trench coat. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” 

“Jack, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Cas says. Jack feels the rumble of his gravelly voice and it soothes him a little, reminds him of when he was still sheltered by his mother’s womb and felt that safety, knew to trust Cas before he even met him. But he knows that right now, Cas is wrong. His existence wrought suffering for them all. He keeps  _ messing up _ .

He presses the heel of his palm against his chest, exacerbating the pain, but Sam takes Jack’s hand and pulls it away from the wound. Fresh blood blossoms around the slit in his shirt and Sam looks utterly heartbroken. 

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Sam murmurs almost like a prayer. 

Sam had prayed to him to save Dean’s life and Jack hadn’t done enough. Jack had the chance to kill Michael, had nearly done it, and he’d choked. And for what? Because  _ Lucifer  _ told him to stop? He could have killed Michael  _ and  _ Lucifer right there, but he’d hesitated. And Lucifer had slit him open and drained him nearly dry. 

He needed to fix this. 

“I’ll find him,” he says through his tears, “I promise you both, I’ll find him.” 

“ _ We _ will find him,” Cas says firmly. “All of us, together.” 

Sam nods, looking a little teary-eyed himself. Jack wishes more than anything that he could take away all of their pain, and it’s killing him that he can’t. 

Sam pulls him and Cas close, kisses the crowns of their heads, and says a quiet “thank you.” It makes Jack feel a little more needed, a little less useless. 


End file.
